


We're All Just Taller Children

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Gen, Heist, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3504143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Joonmyun decides to add Oh Sehun as the sixth member of their crew, Jongin seems to be the only one that has a problem with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Joonmyun brings Sehun into the crew when the Macau job nearly costs Baekhyun an eye.

To his credit, he tries to ease Jongin into the idea—brings him down to the bar underneath their headquarters, pays for the first round and finishes it before Jongin's glass even hits the coaster. Which, in retrospect, should've been a tipoff, but Jongin's got a straw wrapper wound around his fingers before he even realizes Joonmyun's been oddly quiet this whole time, staring at the digital jukebox glowing across the bar.

"Hyung?" Jongin puts a hand on Joonmyun's forearm. An advertisement for _Prince's Greatest Hits!_ flashes across the screen, electric violet and insistent. "You're spacing out. Want to call it a night?"

"I'm bringing in another guy for the next job," Joonmyun says suddenly. The words seem to create space between them, like Joonmyun's a million miles away in that instant. Jongin's hand freezes on the cuff of Joonmyun's expensive silk shirt, fingers retreating back onto the bar. "His name's Oh Sehun. He was on the National Bank job last month. Came highly recommended."

Jongin's heard of him. They came up in the neighborhood around the same time—ran with different crews, occasionally crossed paths when they were chasing the same score. Jongin didn't really know what to think of the guy then—scrawny, rubberband limbs. Wore a lot of ski caps, hooded sweatshirts. Didn't talk much, and when he was forced to, it was all quiet, unintelligible mumbling. Seemed more like a kid doing it for sport than a career criminal. "Is this because of Macau? Hyung, my earpiece fell out and those guys had the jump on me before I could—"

"Jongin, there was nothing you could've done, I'm only glad you got away—"

"—but it won't happen again, _please_ don't bench me. I can do this."

Joonmyun draws a shoulder to his ear and regards Jongin with an amused sort of smirk. "You think I'm auditioning your replacement?"

"You're saying you're not? Sure feels like it," Jongin mutters into his drink. "We've never worked with an outsider before. Timing's about right."

"Jongin. I picked this crew. It took seven years to assemble—you think I'm rethinking things?"

Jongin looks up. "Are you?"

"I'm not benching you. We could use another set of hands on this one, that's all." He levels a gaze at Jongin's downturned mouth, offers him a fatherly smile. "Getting the job's more important than your pride, isn't it? Don't you want to do this one right? I wouldn't have asked him if I didn't think we really needed the help."

Jongin nods mulishly but he can’t help how sour he feels, the jealous heat curdling his stomach. Could have doubled anyone else’s role, why his? They’ve already got a thief on the team, and Jongin's never been comfortable sharing his things with anyone. He stirs the ice in his drink a little petulantly, ignores it when Joonmyun chides him for diluting his drink.

"It’s not your fault," Joonmyun reassures Jongin, hand heavy as it comes to rest on his knee. "Take good care of him, okay?"

Jongin can think of a lot of things he'd do for Joonmyun, lots of things he's already done and would do again in a heartbeat if he were asked—robbed a bank, run away from the police, fallen off a fucking _building_ —but somehow, he feels that obedience faltering when it comes to Oh Sehun.

 

So of course they meet, because Joonmyun calls the shots—it's his crew, after all. Jongin immediately feels encroached-upon when Sehun walks through the door of headquarters like he owns the place, bright red hoodie as ostentatious as the white-blond hair he's currently sporting. He waves a brief hello to the group gathered around the table, offers a half-assed bow that can't be deeper than five degrees, _maybe_ , and takes his seat in between Chanyeol and Joonmyun. Rude little shit. His eyes come to rest on Jongin and he nods briefly in acknowledgment. Jongin leans in to Kyungsoo and mutters, _"Since when do we let outsiders into the office?"_ and is rewarded with an elbow to the gut for his trouble.

Oh Sehun's gotten taller in the decade or so since Jongin saw him last. He's lankier, too, but still slouches everywhere like his body's too heavy to hold upright, hands perpetually sunk into the front pockets of his sweatshirt. He still has that half-bored, half-unimpressed expression on his face and his mouth presses into line that nearly sections off his entire jaw from the rest of his face. It's cartoonish and more than a little ugly. Jongin wrinkles his nose and looks over to Baekhyun, who seems charmed. Figures, though—Baekhyun likes everybody (and vice versa).

"That was you on the bank job last month?" Baekhyun asks, sounding a little dazzled. "All by yourself?"

Even Sehun's shrug is lazy. "You make it sound like it was hard." He yawns, drums his fingers on the tabletop. "I'm sure anyone here could've done it."

Chanyeol's jaw drops in an unattractive gape. Baekhyun and Kyungsoo look at each other underneath their eyebrows, mouthing _anyone here could have done it_ like they can't believe the balls on this new kid. Joonmyun's never looked more proud, Jongin thinks, noticing the way his chest puffs out.

Jongin sniffs. Show-off. The National Bank's security system is notoriously difficult to crack, involves a lot of legwork that has to be done the-day-of, thanks to a company-wide policy of changing passwords every twenty-four hours. It couldn't have been _that_ much of a breeze.

"So what are we doing, exactly?" Sehun asks. He doesn't speak formally even though Jongin knows for a fact that he's the youngest one in the room. It doesn't seem to faze the rest of them. Joonmyun _smiles_ , even, and Jongin bristles with even more annoyance when he remembers being smacked upside the head the first time he tried dropping the honorifics without asking permission first.

"World Jewelry Museum just acquired a new collection," Joonmyun says, pushing a set of blueprints across the table to Sehun. "Some Ethiopian Coptic crosses, some Joseon dynasty wedding jewelry. What do you think?"

Jongin leans back against his chair and tries to keep a sulk from wrinkling his brow.

Sehun is silent for so long Jongin wonders if he'd even heard the question. "Seems simple enough," he says finally, looking up. "Why'd you call me? This isn't anything Jongin can't handle." The way he says it makes Jongin's neck burn. _This isn't anything Jongin can't handle,_ emphasis on _this_ , as if there are some jobs which fall under that category. He wonders if Sehun knows about the Macau job, wonders if Joonmyun told him, and barely has his mouth open to retort before Baekhyun kicks him under the table, eyes dark with a warning: _don't_.

"Of course he can handle it," Joonmyun says smoothly, noticing the irritated way Jongin flops back in his chair. "But it's a six man job, and he's going to need someone he can rely on to follow his instructions. Someone that we know can get the job done without bringing the whole team down."

"And that's me?" Sehun smirks, redirecting his attention to Jongin. "You asked for me? I didn't know you even remembered who I was."

" _I_ asked for you," Joonmyun clarifies before Jongin can reply. "This is my team." He coughs, sensing the tension, and barrels on. "Full disclosure here: I asked for Amber first. She's busy, but she recommended you. Said you're so good she'd even have your kids, which... I suppose is a ringing endorsement coming from her."

Sehun laughs for the first time, mouth open and wheezing. It's even uglier than when he's not laughing. "She really said that?" He slaps the table, then his knees, sound reverberating in Joonmyun's loft space. Chanyeol's laughing too, and Kyungsoo—Jongin notices, realizing he's hopelessly outnumbered here at the table, the lone holdout against Sehun's complete acceptance in the team. He crosses his arms across his chest.

"You ever worked with a team this big before?" Baekhyun asks. Sehun shakes his head.

"Usually prefer to work by myself." He leans forward. "Don't worry, though. I know I won't get paid if I fuck up and branch out on my own. I'm not, gonna, like, let anyone die, or whatever."

Jongin rolls his eyes, makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat that Kyungsoo manages to hide with a well-timed cough.

"I'm taking a risk, you know," Joonmyun says curtly, suddenly all business. "It's my crew's necks on the line if you can't handle this. I want you, but I'll find someone else if you won't do it. So, last chance: here's your out."

Sehun makes a tent with his fingers and looks at the blueprints with sobered interest, eyes darting left to right across the page again and again, _studying_ , analyzing. "Alright," Sehun says after a moment. "I'll do it. I'm going to need a place to crash, though. No way am I making the commute in everyday. Waste of time."

"Fine, then." Joonmyun nods. "Why don't you crash with Jongin? He's nearby, and he's got a couch—you two can catch up, get re-acquainted."

Jongin groans, dread hanging heavy off his shoulders. He really, _really_ doesn't want to have to go home to Oh Sehun. Having to work with him is punishment enough. "Hyung, I live in a _studio_ —"

"Couch is fine," Sehun says quickly. "It's only for a few days, right?"

Jongin flashes a tight smile. He knows he's never going to earn any favors with Joonmyun by fighting this one. "Yeah. Sure. A few days."

 

After their meeting, Joonmyun orders everyone home to get some sleep before their dry run the next day. Jongin debates leaving Sehun behind until Joonmyun calls to him from across the room: "Don't forget Sehun! He doesn't know where you live."

"Neither do I, now that you mention it," Chanyeol says. "Hey Jongin—"

"Forget it. No." It's by design—it's not that Jongin doesn't trust anyone, it's more that he appreciates his privacy. No, more than that. Needs it. As much as he loves the job, it wears on him. His apartment's his sanctuary. The one place he can sit and turn his mind off and be safe.

Or, at least, it was. He briefly debates moving apartments after the job is over. He'll have the money for it, anyway. Now that Sehun knows—what's the point? He kicks open the door and gestures for Sehun to get inside. Sehun makes a beeline for the bed, drops his things to the floor and tries to crawl under the covers. Jongin stops him with an arm across his chest, pulling him back and away.

"Couch," he commands. "Bed is mine."

"It's big enough for two." Sehun wrinkles his nose. "You're really making me sleep on that thing?"

Jongin sets his mouth into a tight line and shrugs. The couch isn't ideal, sure—but Jongin's getting a small amount of pleasure thinking about Sehun sleeping on that thing, broken frame, understuffed cushions and all. "Take it or leave it. You can always go back to your place."

"I don't have—fine, whatever." Sehun drops his entire body weight onto the center section of the couch with a loud, dusty clunk. The frame creaks ominously. "It's only for a few days." He curls onto his side away from Jongin, not even bothering to shuck his clothes.

As a last-minute concession, Jongin tosses him a pillow from the bed and drapes the ratty old afghan from the back of the couch over his shoulders. "Don't break it, okay?" he warns. "Or you're buying me another one."

"How can you tell?" Sehun grumbles, voice already thick and drowsy, and rolls over. The couch springs squeal like Sehun's lying on top of an entire family of guinea pigs. Which, considering the state of Jongin's apartment, isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility.

 

A loud clatter pulls Jongin out of bed at an ungodly hour to investigate, cross-eyed and blinking slowly at the harsh fluorescent light. The bathroom sink's a graveyard for half-used toiletries, mostly skin creams Jongin uses for a while before he grows tired of them and moves on to the next thing, a barely-touched bottle of aftershave that smells like his father.

The bare curve of Sehun's spine tapers into the rolled waistband of his sweatpants. He leans, hunched over the sink, bottle of something in his hand, a plastic cup and a brush laid out across the toilet tank. The blonde is long-gone, replaced by a violent shade of fluorescent pink. He looks like your average punk-ass teenaged kid getting ready to go to the rave, not a skilled cat burglar responsible for half a dozen break-ins across Seoul this year alone.

"You need to do that here?" Jongin asks crossly, rubbing his eyes. "You're fucking with my organizational system."

"Yeah. I can tell." Sehun's reflection laughs and stares Jongin down curiously, a strange sort of smile inching across his face. Sehun's face is distorted by the splattered water on the mirror's surface. "I'm really impressed by your collection of expired lotions. It paints a picture."

Jongin ignores the jab. "What the fuck are you doing, anyway?"

"How do you feel about pink?" He points his finger at his fuschia halo and pulls a face in the mirror that almost looks like he's posing for a selca. "For my hair, I mean."

Pink is the color of Jongin's favorite candy. He vaguely recalls the walls of his sisters' bedroom, growing up—also pink. Sehun's chosen a particularly ostentatious hue, too—about as bright as it gets, almost neon. "I don't have feelings about any color. Pink's—uh. Sure."

Sehun goes back to what he was doing, leans underneath the running stream of water in the sink to rinse his hair clean. "You'd look good with a change, too."

Jongin scoffs. "I've got better things to be doing. Going out and scouting the location, preparing for the climb. Looking over the blueprints. You know, _the job_."

"Oh. I just wing that stuff."

"You _what_?" Jongin asks hotly. "You can't wing this shit—not when you're working with us. We have a plan. A routine. No fucking deviations—you can't just do your own shit halfway through a job, you'll get someone killed. Joonmyun-hyung's the one who calls the shots."

Sehun smiles like an emoticon, eyes tight and high. "You always do what Joonmyun tells you? You never question it?"

"No," Jongin says. Irritation prickles at the base of his neck. "I do what's best for the team."

"Not even once? C'mon, Jongin—what about what's best for you? I've heard the stories about the jobs you used to do back in the neighborhood. You were _good_. What are you doing working under someone else?"

Jongin bristles at the question. Sehun sounds so young when he asks questions like this. Jongin's only got a few months on him, but he's not a damn kid anymore. He appreciates the value of teamwork, of this makeshift family Joonmyun's cobbled together for the sake of security. They've saved his ass more than a few times. "I like knowing that at any moment, if something happens, any one of them will have my back. You don't get that when you work alone."

"I don't fuck up in the first place." Sehun shrugs and pulls a towel over his head to dry his hair. "Seems easier than splitting the haul with people."

Jongin opens his mouth to retort, then closes it again. He's too fucking tired to fight about it now—he'll just have to talk to Joonmyun in the morning. He's not a goddamn babysitter, and if Sehun really can't handle doing the legwork for the job, Joonmyun really needs to know about it. "Whatever. I'm going back to bed," he says abruptly, turning to leave.

"Oh, come on, Jongin. Don't get pissed." Sehun laughs. "It was just a question."

"Pretty stupid question. You know, I have _no_ idea why Joonmyun asked for you in the first place—"

"—a _ha_ , I knew you didn't want me on this job." Sehun's hands pause at the crown of his head. The towel's turning pink, too, and Jongin reminds himself that the murder probably wouldn't be justified over an old bath towel he could probably replace for 10,000 won. He takes a deep breath and steadies his voice.

"Doesn't matter what I want. I'll do my job because the team is counting on me. Which—I'm not going to be able to scout the location effectively if I don't get some sleep, so."

"Are you always such a prick, or is this your way of telling me you have a crush on me?"

"You little—" Jongin takes a menacing step towards Sehun. Sehun flinches involuntarily and his elbows go flailing. He starts a chain reaction—first the hand soap falls over, then the bottle of dye (which he'd forgotten to cap, _of course_ ), then the entire contents of Jongin's sink tumbles to the floor with a terrific crash. Lotion tubes explode, plastic lids crack—it's chaos. Perhaps the worst casualty is also the most pungent: the bottle of aftershave currently soaking into the bath mat. The whole place smells like a barber shop.

"For fuck's sake, look what you did." Jongin punches Sehun in the shoulder as hard as he can, frowning. "God—just get the fuck out."

This is a perfect metaphor for Sehun's style of thievery, Jongin thinks wryly: he's a bull in a fucking china shop, causes mass devastation and collateral damage, focuses more on showmanship, wants everyone to know he was there and what he's accomplished. It's not about the score with Sehun, it's about the process, it's about being as impressive as possible and being recognized for his brilliance. It's going to bite him in the ass someday.

"I'll clean it up, just. Move. Get out of my way," he says, pushing Jongin aside. Scowling, Jongin retreats back to his bed and sits with his ankles tucked underneath his body. He can sort of see Sehun at the edge of his peripheral vision, crouched on the bathroom floor, body blurred into a smear of fizzing light, pink at the edges.

Jongin breathes through his mouth until he can't take being silent any longer, he just _has_ to channel his anger into yelling at Sehun again or he's going to wring his neck. "My whole apartment's gonna smell like that shit—"

"Why did you even have it hanging around, then?" Sehun challenges. "Seems stupid if you don't even use it." And then, "Ow. Fuck." He sits back against the cabinets with a quiet rattle, seething.

"What?" Jongin trips over himself and tumbles off the bed into a painful belly flop, legs still tangled underneath him. Sehun's clutching his left hand with his right, thumb pressed deep enough into his palm to leave a dent.

"Missed some glass," Sehun says through gritted teeth. He's even paler than usual, washed out by the light and the sight of his own blood. He licks his lips, manages a wan smile. "You always come running like that?"

"Shut up," Jongin says, face hot with embarrassment. "Are you okay?"

Sehun displays his wound—deceptively small, still bleeding. A dark, sanguine rivulet winds its way around his wrist. Jongin thrusts his hand out just in time to catch the droplets before they stain his bath mat. Sehun's eyes roll towards the ceiling in amusement.

"Did you get all the glass?"

"I think so." A pause. "You were right though," Sehun says quietly, settling back against the cabinets. "I made a mess. And this cologne burns."

Jongin smiles wryly. "Run it under the water. I think I've got a bandage somewhere in the cabinet."

 

Jongin leaves him to it after that. There's nothing much he can do for him, and like he'd said before—he's _tired_. Joonmyun always gets on his case when he shuffles into headquarters with his eyes still closed, and Baekhyun's been known to pinch his side whenever he yawns.

After a while, the lights go off, and the weight of the bed shifts, mattress dipping. A coil protests with a loud grinding creak that Jongin should probably be more concerned about, but it's fucking four in the morning and he smells like _OId Spice_ and there's a fucking warm body curving to fit his shape. Fuck. No. Jongin signed up to be a host, not a fucking little spoon to some kid who's got hair like Animal from the Muppets.

"Get out," Jongin moans, arm flailing blindly at the body behind him. He makes contact a few times—Sehun's hips, his stomach, the hard bone of his ribcage. Sehun whines.

"Hey. Stop hitting me. Why do _you_ get the bed, anyway?"

So he's rehashing _this_ again.

Jongin snorts. Sehun's got a brass pair, that's for sure. "Because I live here and you don't. Move, this bed isn't big enough to share." It _is_ , honestly, but Jongin doesn't like to. He's already being forced to share his job and his crew. His living space. The bathroom. The bed is the last safe space he has that's all his, although it looks like that's not going to be true for much longer.

"The couch _sucks_ , though. I'm going to get stabbed with a spring and get tetanus and die—"

"Put a blanket down," Jongin grumbles. "You're not going to get stabbed, for fuck's sake, you make it sound like I live in a slum."

"I'm a _guest_ ," Sehun wheedles.

"Guest. Please. You're an imposition." Jongin stifles a yawn with the back of his hand. "I'm just doing a favor for Joonmyun-hyung."

"I cut my hand," Sehun tries, huffing.

"What does that have to do with sleeping in my bed?" Jongin sighs and rolls over. Sehun's face is pitiful, eyebrows drawn together, mouth small. "Look, whatever. I'm not sleeping on the couch either, but just—don't hog the covers, I guess—"

He's already asleep before Jongin can finish laying out the ground rules for sharing a bed. It's a shame he gave Sehun a head start, too, because Sehun's clingy as fuck in his sleep and Jongin can't find a spare square inch to breathe without some part of Sehun's body making contact. He gives up after Sehun makes a particularly disgruntled noise and catches hold of Jongin's shoulder, pulling him close. Even in the dark, Jongin can see the wound on Sehun's palm seeping through the poorly-wrapped bandages. He winces. It's pretty deep, probably needs stitches—not that Sehun seems the type to ever go to the hospital for anything. He covers Sehun's hand with his own and holds it to his chest to put some pressure on it, stop the bleeding (his shirt's probably done for, but he'll just add it to Sehun's tab).

 

Baekhyun pinches Jongin three times before they even get started on preparations. Jongin whines and pulls up his shirt, rubs at the dark pink fingermarks in his side. "Come on, hyung," he says. "I slept like shit. Sehun woke me up in the middle of the night."

"Oh really?" Baekhyun asks, eyebrows wiggling. "I'd ask for details, but I don't think I want to know."

Jongin's leg strikes out almost of its own accord, catching Baekhyun square in the ankle. He grunts out a pained laugh and hobbles off to talk to Chanyeol.

Sehun, that little shit, flits around Joonmyun, eyes half-mast and lidded as he leans in, obviously wheedling for something. He doesn't seem to be suffering from the lack of sleep—he was already awake and dressed when Jongin's alarm went off. Jongin slapped at his phone a few times and sat up, momentarily confused by the pink-haired boy sitting on the edge of his bed until he realized, "Oh, right, _you_ ," and collapsed back against the sheets, groaning.

But they're here now. World Jewelry Museum. Ready for the biggest score of their career.

It's a fairly inconspicuous museum, as museums tend to go, set back in a row of identical brick buildings in the middle of a neighborhood. The door made of smooth, brushed metal is one of the few indicators that this isn't just another bungalow. They wait around the corner, halfway down the block trying to survey the buildings for the best place for Joonmyun to play lookout.

Jongin takes Sehun on a quick walk around the perimeter of the museum, pretending to be neighborhood boys. Sehun looks the part, especially with his brilliant pink hair (Joonmyun hadn't even blinked when Sehun had arrived at the rendezvous point that morning and removed his hat, which only served to further darken Jongin's mood). Best point of entry seems to be from the ventilation system at the side of the museum. The building's old enough that the air conditioning unit will pull away easily, revealing a wide air shaft that should fit Sehun's broad shoulders without trapping him deep in the bowels of the building. From there, down to museum floor, and then: the vault.

Chanyeol's initial scan of the museum detected substandard security measures: some manual bolt locks, a camera. All easy to bypass, especially with a team as seasoned as Joonmyun's. The real trick is going to be the vault downstairs where some of the extremely valuable pieces are kept. The specifications list a host of precautions: an RFID scanner tied to an employee's identification card, a fingerprint scanner. Motion detectors, heat sensors. It's not going to be easy, and as much as Jongin hates to admit it out loud, he's really going to need the extra help with this one, since it's always his job to get past these things.

Jongin watches Sehun as he helps place equipment in strategic hiding places, easily-accessible in case they need to stage a hasty retreat tomorrow night. Kyungsoo hands him a long, knotted length of rope and stands back to watch him fix the mess. The rope twists past Sehun's hand onto the floor, spirals into a neat coil at his feet. He's had a lot of practice at this. He's not even focusing on what he's doing anymore, too busy laughing at something Baekhyun's just said to him. He nods attentively when Joonmyun says something to him and points out a nearby building—a grocery store front with wide glass picture windows, maybe four stories tall.

"Good vantage point, sheltered by the wind from the building next to it."

Joonmyun smiles indulgently and nods. "Good. That was my first choice."

"But—that top floor is completely residential. Tenants can be unpredictable, might see us and call the police," Sehun continues. "Otherwise, there's that building," he gestures at the squat, brick structure next to his original choice, "which doesn't have a great vantage point, but there aren't any cameras pointing at anywhere you'd need to be."

Chanyeol laughs and claps Sehun on the back. "He's good."

"Jongin," Baekhyun calls before Jongin can even think of rolling his eyes. "Come help me with this, will you?"

"What do you need?" Jongin asks, head whipping around.

Baekhyun waves his hand impatiently. "Just come on."

_This_ turns out to be a job Baekhyun usually does by himself: _reconnaissance._ He saunters right up the front steps of the museum and holds the door open for Jongin, ushers him inside with an exaggerated bow. The lobby is beautiful—a lot of dark wood and glass, walls littered with brightly-colored photographs of some of the collections proudly on display. Jongin wanders over to check them out, one eye trained on Baekhyun as he pretends to consider some of the pamphlets, sizing up his next move. There's one necklace in particular that captures Jongin's attention: an arching, gold yoke. Intricately tooled, probably by hand. He peers closely at the neat calligraphy on the card beneath the photograph. _12th Century BC, Egypt._ He makes a note of its location in the necklace hall and wonders if he'll be able to keep something for himself, maybe gift it to his mother after the pressure's off.

Jongin watches carefully as Baekhyun slides up to the information desk and smiles cheekily.

"Hi," he says. "I've got a delivery for the museum." He peers over the counter for a moment at the young man at the desk. "And I think you're the only one who can help me get this fixed, _Park Jaejung._ "

The boy blushes, clearly unused to the attention. "What can I do for you? Deliveries are supposed to go around back. Acquisitions department. I'm just—tickets and stuff."

Baekhyun recognizes weakness and turns his charm up to full-blast. "I was supposed to make a delivery tomorrow afternoon," he says, leaning in. His voice drops into a conspiratorial whisper. "But I made a huge mistake. The jewelry's being appraised first, and they're not going to be finished until five o'clock." The boy nodded sympathetically. "Who do I see about making a delivery after the museum's normal hours?"

Baekhyun strolls out of the museum with a name and phone number of an acquisitions specialist he's supposed to call. Jongin follows behind, hand stuffed with pamphlets in an effort to look like a tourist. He throws the pamphlets in the nearest garbage can and watches Baekhyun hand the business card to Chanyeol, who's been sitting in the back of the van waiting. He sets to work cobbling together an ID card for Baekhyun that can use to let Jongin into the vault.

And that's it. Jongin's work is done. Nothing left to do but sit back and wait for tomorrow night to roll around.

 

Jongin's sitting in the front seat of the van dozing off, waiting for Chanyeol to finish up installing a back door into the museum's security system, when someone plunks down next to him and slings an arm over his shoulders. Baekhyun. He's the only one this physically affectionate without Jongin initiating it. Jongin cracks an eye open.

"What's up?" he slurs. "You need me for something?"

"Nah." Baekhyun props his feet up on the dashboard. "Just wanted to come keep you company."

"Where are the others?"

"Kyungsoo is teaching Sehun how to throw a punch. Chanyeol's just finishing up his job and I think Joonmyun's watching." He sniffs. "You know, I think Sehun's really got a knack for this stuff. He's fitting in more quickly than I was expecting him to."

Jongin shrugs Baekhyun's arm away, annoyed at the mention of their newest teammate. "Yeah. He's fine, I guess."

"I remember the first time I heard your name." Baekhyun changes the subject, sounding suspiciously casual. This isn't his usual modus operandi—he's always giving Jongin shit, pinching him, laughing. Everything's a joke with Byun Baekhyun. "Kim Jongin. Some wunderkind thief, most talented kid Joonmyun-hyung'd ever seen. When he first started—you know, this," Baekhyun gestures around them at the van, "he floated around a lot of names—yeah, even Sehun's—but yours was always at the top of the list. He wanted _you_."

Jongin rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. I remember, he followed me around for weeks. Kept messing up my job prep and getting in the way until I agreed to come meet you guys."

"Yeah." Baekhyun tents his fingers. Waits a beat, breathing slow. "Did you know I told him you were a bad choice?" He puts up his hands before Jongin can say anything. "I don't—think that way anymore, obviously."

Jongin's eyes can't help but focus on the faint greying mark at the crest of Baekhyun cheekbone and think about all of the tiny fuck-ups he'd committed that had led to his spectacular failure in Macau. "Hyung—"

Baekhyun's always been able to read his mind better than the rest of them and he's doing it now, whether Jongin wants him to or not. He puts his hand up to cover his bruise, offers Jongin a lopsided smile. "Jongin-ah. Accidents happen, this wasn't—you weren't being reckless, you couldn't have known." He chuckles, perfect canines flashing in the low light. "I told you not to worry. I'm fine. It's over. We got out."

Jongin hangs his head. "Maybe Joonmyun _should've_ picked Sehun."

"No, Jongin—that wasn't my point." Baekhyun sighs. His fingers wrap around Jongin's knee, warm and reassuring. "My point is—Sehun knows you're good and that's why you were chosen. Sehun looks up to you."

Jongin wrinkles his nose, suddenly scornful. "What makes you say _that_? He doesn't look up to anyone else but himself. You should hear how he talks—"

"Yeah. I can imagine." Baekhyun ruffles Jongin's hair affectionately. "You used to be the same way. Just as much of a cocky little shit. Maybe a little quieter about it, but—we all knew what you were thinking."

Jongin scoffs. "That's not true— _ow!_ "

The patient smile doesn't leave Baekhyun's face, even after his palm's finished coiling back from smacking Jongin upside the head. "Hey. You little ass. Do you even remember what you ate for dinner last night?"

Jongin rubs at the crown of his head where the sting is still acute. " _Hyung_."

"What? Need me to knock some more sense into your head?" Baekhyun asks harshly. "He's just a stray kid looking for a family."

Jongin glowers. "Why does it have to be _this_ one?"

"Ah, middle children." Baekhyun sighs with the air of a put-upon father whose kids are warring. He stands, uses Jongin's shoulder for balance. "Don't be a dick, Jongin. You're better than that."

Jongin's gaze drops to his wounded knuckles, scraped and scabbed over from the morning's excursion with the air conditioning unit. "I'm sorry, hyung," he mutters finally. "I'll try harder."

"Yeah, good. You should be sorry—stop being a jerk. I don't like having to come down here and have serious conversations with you on Joonmyun's orders." Baekhyun puts Jongin in a rough headlock and yanks him to his feet. "Come on. Stop looking like I just killed your dog, you're going to be fine. I bet Chanyeol's finished by now. Let's go to dinner."

 

 

They meet the next evening at headquarters just as the sunset's drooping to completion past the horizon, the last few rays as brilliantly pink as Sehun's hair. He and Jongin are last to arrive, which pisses Jongin off because he's used to being first. He likes sitting on Joonmyun's kitchen counter, watch him put away the dinner things and talk shop.

 

Chanyeol greets them both with a cheery shout and turns back to the video game he's playing on Joonmyun's gigantic television. Baekhyun's losing to Chanyeol, badly, and does _not_ turn to greet them, but he does say hello, immediately followed by _fuck you, Chanyeol, you motherfucker—no!_ and Sehun laughs loudly.

Joonmyun and Kyungsoo are in the kitchen. Joonmyun's in the middle of cleaning and reassembling a gun—he always brings one, just in case, even though Kyungsoo hates guns and begs him to leave it behind every time. They look up when Sehun and Jongin come in. Joonmyun nods, a content sort of approval on his face as he looks them up and down.

"You ready?" he asks, mostly to Sehun. Sehun rolls his shoulders casually, still working that fucking apathetic teenager angle even though he's not in his teens any more and really should cut it out.

"Always," he says, a blatant lie. "I was born ready." Overconfidence seems to be Sehun's game. Too much pride in his work. It's going to get him in trouble and Jongin's fucking terrified now that Sehun's part of the team because Sehun's fall is going to come at a cost to the rest of them.

Jongin pats the bag full of his climbing gear in silent confirmation. He doesn't want to make a scene after Sehun's spectacular display of bravado. Just feels tacky. Joonmyun nods and goes back to loading his gun.

Kyungsoo offers Jongin a small smile and punches him in the bicep. Kyungsoo knows this side of Jongin better than the rest of the team. He'd worked on his own for years before Joonmyun recruited him and although he's the first person to risk his neck for any of them, there's still that wildness there, the untamed lone wolf that sometimes feels out of place, too independent to ever indicate that maybe he needs them just as much as they need him.

"Alright, then," Joonmyun says, tucking the gun into the holster under his arm. "It's nearly dark. Let's go."

 

It takes them over an hour to get set up at the location Sehun had scouted for them yesterday. The second one—the first rooftop had been occupied by a couple of handsy lovers who seemed more interested in each other than in any of the goings-on around them, but there was no way Joonmyun was going to risk the team to find out just how invested the couple was in consummating their relationship undisturbed.

Chanyeol's down the block in the van, already set up on his laptop and accessing the security protocols through the backdoor he'd installed the day before. Joonmyun and Baekhyun are on the roof watching out, and Kyungsoo's doing laps of the block, very slowly, just to keep an eye on foot traffic. No need, really, though—this part of town's long-since gone to bed. Even the dogs are asleep.

Sehun, for his part, seems ready to do the job he's been hired to do without fucking around anymore. He's all business pulling back the air conditioning unit by himself, hands the screwdriver back to Jongin for him to hold but doesn't once get angry or snap impatiently, which is more than Jongin could ever say about himself in situations like these. This is the worst part for Jongin and it always makes him antsy: the approach. He's also not crazy about sharing duct space with another person—anything could happen and then there'll be _two_ people stuck in a caved ventilation shaft instead of just one, but. Joonmyun had insisted that Sehun's help was necessary and Jongin wasn't going to argue with the mastermind about this kind of thing even if he'd pulled jobs like this by himself a thousand times before—bigger jobs too, maybe, back when he was young and believed he'd never get caught.

Jongin takes the lead inside the air shaft. He insists—he'd spent the night before studying the blueprints Chanyeol had commandeered from the local zoning board while Sehun had curled up snoring on Jongin's side of the bed. He pulls himself forward on his elbows, inches closer, closer—until they're breaking free into a small storage closet that's barely big enough for one of them to stand upright, let alone two. He kicks the grate away and clambers out on his hands and knees, then sticks his hand back into the ventilation shaft to pull Sehun through and into the museum.

"Thanks," Sehun pants, pushing his bags onto the floor first and tumbling out after them. "Stuffy in there, Jesus."

Jongin remembers Sehun's injured hand—belatedly—and pulls away just as he's inside the room. It's dark and Jongin doesn't want to risk turning on a light but he can still make out when Sehun raises an eyebrow curiously.

"What, don't want to touch me?" he asks, and for a moment he almost sounds hurt. Jongin takes Sehun's hand again and spreads it flat against his own.

"No—just. How's your hand?" The bandage is wrapped neatly this time and it's relatively clean, considering Sehun's just dismantled an air conditioning unit and crawled through half a building's worth of ventilation pipes.

An amused twinkle lights in Sehun's eyes. "It's fine. Thanks."

"Yeah. Whatever," Jongin mumbles, burying his fists in his pocket. "Let's just get down to the vault, alright?"

"Give Chanyeol a second to divert the security guard," Joonmyun warns. "He's on the second floor right now just finishing up his rounds. He'll be back in the security office in five minutes. Hang tight and don't move around too much."

So they pause for a moment in the lobby, keeping to the edge of the room in the shadows. Jongin sidles up to the far wall, where he'd been yesterday, and stares at the photograph of the necklace. Sehun comes up behind him and chuckles.

"You like that one, huh?" he asks. His tone is a little too earnest for Jongin's liking and he turns away, annoyed.

"Okay, guys, you can move now," Joonmyun says, breaking the tension. "Get out of there. Cameras are off, you don't need to hide."

"What's next?" he asks, more to Chanyeol over the comms than to Sehun, who lingers for a moment longer over the photograph before falling in step with Jongin.

"I just patched in a feed from last night's security video, so the guard in the back thinks he's looking at an empty museum," says Chanyeol, sounding especially smug. "You've just got to get downstairs into the vault."

 

When they get down to the vault, Jongin reaches into his pocket to retrieve the ID card Baekhyun had procured the day before. It's light in his hand, plastic edges digging into his palm when he squeezes it just to make sure it doesn't go anywhere. It swipes easily and the latch disengages with a loud gritty click that echoes in the empty hallway. Jongin pulls it open all the way and leaves it like that to usher Sehun inside, empty duffel bags slung under their arms to carry their score.

Sehun stops dead in the threshold of the inner vault, hands braced against the doorframe to block Jongin from walking past. "No," he says. "We've got a problem."

"A problem?" Jongin bounces on his toes to look over Sehun's arm, and then, feeling embarrassed, ducks under. A fucking laser field. "Chanyeol? Anything about laser security in that briefing of yours?" he asks, still hunched under Sehun's elbow.

A long pause. "Laser... security?" Chanyeol asks faintly. "No."

"There's a whole field here," Sehun says. "Twelve by twelve. Grid's too small to hopscotch through it."

"Nothing in here about lasers," Chanyeol's muttering to himself, obviously distraught. "I have the _blueprints_ —is this a new security measure?"

"Too late to worry about that now," Joonmyun chides. "Chanyeol, you really didn't catch this? Did you check the date of the blueprints?"

"This isn't good," Jongin says, looking at the threads of red light crisscrossing the floor. "How are we going to get past this. I can't jump that far—too close to the wall, no way to get a running start."

Frantic clicking from Chanyeol's keyboard on the other end of the comm. "Sorry—guys, I had _no idea_ —they're not controlled by the main grid. I have no way of accessing them remotely."

Joonmyun huffs loudly but doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to: they've worked together long enough to know what that means. _Figure it out or get out of there, now._

"Give me a second—"

Sehun pipes up. "I've got an idea." Jongin jumps. He'd been so focused on Joonmyun and Chanyeol that he'd completely forgotten he had company, that Sehun was standing right next to him. Another body, another criminal mind ready to help.

"Yeah?" Joonmyun asks. "Go on, then."

Sehun drops to his knees on the floor and rummages in his bag for a moment. Baekhyun gets on the comm and starts spitballing ideas—stupid, outlandish ones, like using the climbing rope to swing across the room like Tarzan, or Jongin somersaulting off Sehun's shoulders like circus acrobats. Baekhyun yelps mid-sentence and goes silent; Jongin assumes someone's smacked him into silence (probably Kyungsoo).

"Got it." Sehun sits back, holding a roll of tin foil in the air triumphantly. Jongin frowns.

"What are you going to do with that?"

"What is it?" Chanyeol asks.

"It's foil," Jongin says slowly. "What the fuck, you just carry that shit around in your kit? Waiting for a barbecue?" Joonmyun chuckles at Jongin's outburst and Sehun rolls his eyes.

"Just give me a second, alright?" He sits cross-legged on the floor and sets to work crafting something from long pieces torn off the roll with recklessly loud tugs. Every once in a while he'll hold up his masterpiece to the light and frown at it, then return to working on it in his lap, hunched over, neck bowed over his hands.

Jongin paces by the door nervously, listening. If the guard hears them—

"Got it. Watch this." Sehun rises to his feet, looks pleased with himself as he folds the tin foil in half and eases the two angled pieces away from each other. The beams cleave neatly, reflected by the smooth surface of the foil. Jongin waits, poised for flight, but the alarm never sounds.

"Wow," he whispers after a moment, unable to keep the amazement off of his face. "How'd you come up with that trick?"

Sehun doesn't answer for a moment. Everything in the vault is still, waiting with bated breath for a misstep, for something to go wrong. He slides one foot into the path created by the tin foil, then the other. "Saw it on TV once. Seemed legit."

Jongin gapes, eyes still zeroed on in the way Sehun's toes creep forward in the space he's cleared for himself. "Are you insane?" he asks, locating his voice. "You had no idea if it was going to work?"

"It makes sense though, doesn't it?" Sehun almost looks bored when he bothers to glance at Jongin over his shoulder. "Reflects the laser, blah blah, physics."

Joonmyun's chuckle over the earpiece startles Jongin, who'd completely forgotten for a moment that he was on a job with his _team_ , not just this unruly kid who keeps taking leaps without looking for a net first. "Sehun," Joonmyun says quietly, laughter in his voice. "Please don't do that again. I can hear Jongin having a heart attack from here."

"No problem, hyung." Sehun smiles sweetly. He's passed through to the other side by now, a trickle of sweat tracing the prominent bulge of vein down his forehead. "Jongin. You coming?"

Jongin eyes the space beyond the laser field warily. Sehun's got broad shoulders. It'd be a tight fit. "No," he says. "You pass the things back to me."

"Work quickly, guys," Chanyeol warns. "I've got the security tape from last night looping, but the guard's going to take his walk through of the place any moment. If he sees that open door you left, we're blown."

So they get to work, filling their bags with as many trinkets as Sehun can pull from the vault and pass to Jongin. It turns into a rhythm—Sehun pulls something out, inspects it, tosses it across the laser field to Jongin, who wraps it in a soft swath of paper towel to stop the clinking from impeding their getaway and arranges it gently in one of the four bags they've brought along.

He loosens up and gets into it after the first bag's been filled. It's a little fun, the way Sehun wiggles his eyebrows mischieviously each time he winds up to throw a necklace or a bracelet, like he's going to whip it across the room like a fastball. It always leaves his fingers gently, though—arcs right into Jongin's outstretched hands like they've been doing this forever. Jongin smiles and catches Sehun's eye, has to bite back his delighted laughter because if the team hears he's actually having a good time he's never going to be able to save face in front of them after all of his complaining.

 

It doesn't fully dawn on him how desperately Sehun's help was needed until they're back outside and he's watching Chanyeol inspect the silver crosses, a manic grin plastered across his face like he's just discovered some hidden treasure. That foil trick? Actually pretty fucking genius, and it saved the score. They'll make millions pawning this on the black market, maybe enough to retire if they really wanted to. Jongin's sweat hasn't even evaporated off his forehead when he turns to congratulate Sehun and sees a broad pair of shoulders slouching away down the alleyway. He's pulled away from his trance by Baekhyun's arm, Kyungsoo squeezing his elbow.

"Good job," Joonmyun says, following Jongin's gaze. "That's more like it." He pushes that necklace into Jongin's hands with a small smile. "Sehun said you'd been eyeing this one. You earned it. Just don't sell it right away."

"I won't," Jongin says. He pockets the necklace.

When he looks again, Sehun is nowhere to be seen.


	2. Chapter 2

Jongin's so worn out and fucked up that he gets on the wrong train. When he finally gets home he falls on top of the covers with his clothes on and sleeps for thirty-six hours without moving, lets the exhaustion drag him under and consume him.

The phone wakes him. He answers by the fifth ring, just barely, holds it upside down against his face before he realizes he's speaking into the earpiece and flips it, thankful the caller can't see him fumble.

"Mmmwhat." He coughs, trying to dislodge the cobwebs of sleep from his lungs. The digital display of his clock swims into view. It's a little after nine in the morning. Too early to be alive after a job. "Hyung, I—"

"Jongin." It's Sehun. Jongin recognizes that rasp, the hurried, slurring way Sehun says his name that almost makes it sound like one garbled syllable.

The skin of Jongin's cheek is tight with old drool. He picks at it idly with his fingernails, scrunches his eyes shut and yawns. "I don't have your money, Sehun. Call Joonmyun—"

"This isn't about that. Fuck the money. Look. You know the Black Pearl Casino. Down by the river?"

Jongin rolls over onto his stomach, breathes in the smell of his comforter. He needs to do his laundry. Badly. It still smells like Sehun, like the bottle of cologne he broke on the bathroom floor. He nuzzles his face a little deeper into the scratchy fabric and holds his breath. "Mmm. Kkangpae controls that territory. What about it?"

"You ever broken in? See what they've got in the vault?"

"Tried, once. Didn't get too far on my own. Joonmyun doesn't want to risk it. He says we'll need twice the manpower to beat that security system. It's a big job, no guaranteed payoff, whatever."

"Ah." A pause. "He's probably right."

A siren goes off on the other end of the phone. Jongin recoils, fully awake, just in time for Sehun to break off into a string of quiet, muttered curses. "Shit—fuck, hold on—"

"Sehun?" Jongin sits up, notices for the first time that he's still wearing his clothes from the job. Black jeans, black shirt twisted up under his arms. Sweaty and stale from sleep. "Where the fuck are you?"

"Look. Don't worry—forget about it. It was just a hypothetical question."

"Sehun," Jongin says slowly. "Don't tell me you tried to break in by yourself."

"Tried?" Sehun huffs out a laugh. "Breaking in's no problem. Breaking out, on the other hand…"

"Jesus Christ. Is this your idea of winging it?" Jongin gropes blindly under his bed for his shoes. "Get to somewhere safe and stay there. Let me—you can't get out of there by yourself. Stand by, stay low. We'll come get you."

Sehun swallows audibly. The siren's fainter, now, but Sehun's breathing hard like he just ran a marathon. "Yeah. Thanks," he manages to choke out. "That'd be cool."

"Sehun?"

"Yeah."

"Why'd you call me?"

"Because I knew you'd come."

 

Jongin doesn't take the usual precautions before he bursts into headquarters, door rattling on its hinges. Chanyeol's passed out on the couch and sits bolt upright, blinking and digging in the couch cushions for something. Joonmyun's in the kitchen making something for breakfast that smells amazing and garlicky. He doesn't miss a beat, keeps whisking whatever's in the large stainless steel bowl on the counter with his left hand while he pulls his gun on the sudden intruder in his living room with his right.

"Jongin?" He drops the fork into the bowl, surprised. The gun stays true. "It's before noon. You're awake."

"Hyung," Jongin says, ignoring the barrel still trained on him. "Help. Sehun called, he needs us to—to go get him."

Joonmyun lowers the gun, eyebrows creasing into a deep v. "What are you talking about?"

"That's cute," Chanyeol says through a noisy yawn. "You guys exchanged numbers. Are you guys going to make it official, or—"

"Shut up, I'm serious. He needs our help."

"Sit down. You look like you're going to faint." Joonmyun gestures at the sofa. "Slow down. What's going on with Sehun? Is he in trouble?" It looks like he wants to ask, _and why'd he call you, anyway?_ Jongin's grateful when he doesn't.

"He said he was in the Black Pearl."

A cell phone drops down the spiral staircase with a loud clatter. Baekhyun follows after it, socked feet thumping on the steps. "He's— _where_?" Baekhyun demands, gathering the pieces of his cellphone in his hand. "Are you kidding? Is this some sort of fucking prank you guys are pulling, because I'm glad you're bonding, but fucking with the _Jopok_ isn't really something—"

"We're not bonding. He's—we have to help him." Jongin swallows, throat clicking dry. "He broke in. He needs us to break him out."

"Break him _out_?" Chanyeol's raised voice splits on the question mark. "Jongin, do you have any idea what kind of security system they've got installed in there? It's a Zbigniew. A _Zbigniew_ , Jongin. That's not your garden variety monitoring algorithm, that's—a computer built into the walls of the building, with the capability to _learn and strategize_ against you, with the personality of a hungry lion. What the _hell_ does Sehun think he's doing, going in there all by himself?"

"I don't know," Jongin murmurs. "I don't know, all he said was he got in, and he needs help getting out."

"Fuck." The color drains from Baekhyun's face. "What's he doing in there alone?"

"I don't _know_ ," Jongin repeats stubbornly. "You think I told him to go?"

"Jongin," Joonmyun says, already pulling on a pair of shoes. His cellphone's balanced between his ear and his shoulder. "How long ago did he call? Yes, Kyungsoo. Wake up. We've got a job. Meet at the Black Pearl Casino. As soon as you can. No, brush your teeth later. Sehun's in trouble." He hangs up the phone and looks at Jongin expectantly. "Jongin?"

"Uh. I got over here as soon as he called. Ten, fifteen maybe?"

Joonmyun sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "Alright. We don't have much time. We'll figure it out on the way." He tosses Baekhyun a heavy, jangling ring of keys. "Earpieces in, guys. We're going to have to do this one on the fly."

 

Joonmyun scouts for a lookout point using the GPS maps function on his phone while Baekhyun breaks every speed limit on the way across the river, pulling an easy eighty-five in school zones, redlining the speedometer on the highway. It's a miracle the police don't bother with the black panel passenger van weaving through traffic like they're running _from_ a crime instead of _to_ one.

They park a block away and split up. Kyungsoo's waiting for them when they pull up and takes off, wandering down the sidewalk with his hands in his jacket pockets, eyes trained on the wide, mirrored windows of the Black Pearl's upper floors. Jongin tails him from a few meters behind, pretending to be busy on his phone. They'd scouted out this building last year before Joonmyun had called the job off. _"I need you guys alive,"_ he'd said, when Chanyeol had brought back the reports of the Zbigniew being installed. _"You're more valuable to me than any potential score. There'll be other jobs. We're walking away from this one."_

They reassemble on the roof of the building across the street. Joonmyun keeps pacing in tight figure eights, fingers jittery and stretching to catch hold of the air. He'd look excited if he didn't also look a little petrified.

"Baekhyun, you and Chanyeol need to get inside the building. _Now_ ," Joonmyun says when the whole team's there, handing them ID cards he's produced from somewhere inside his coat. He's always got this mysterious supply of false identification documents, and Jongin's never been so grateful before this very moment. "Keep upper management distracted and away from security. I'll send Kyungsoo up to retrieve Sehun."

"What about me?" Jongin asks. Joonmyun eyes him thoughtfully.

"Sit tight with me."

"You're benching me again?" Jongin eyes, eyes flashing in disbelief. "Hyung, we need all the manpower we can get—"

Joonmyun silences him with a raised palm. "Jongin. This isn't personal, I'm not benching you. Let me handle this, okay?" Guilt registers on his face. "I'm the one that brought him on the team in the first place."

Jongin steels his jaw, ready for a fight. "Let me help."

They stare each other down for a long beat. Baekhyun breaks the silence, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Hyung," he rasps. "Just let him help. We'll need an extra body inside. Jongin's good at navigating small spaces, he knows how Sehun thinks. He'll be able to find him faster than Kyungsoo."

Joonmyun purses his lips. "Fine," he says. "Baekhyun, Chanyeol. Get in there, make sure there's a way for Kyungsoo and Jongin to get in. Otherwise... we're going to have to resort to slash and burn to get everyone out of there in one piece."

 

Baekhyun is, hands-down, the best grifter in Seoul, and he's in rare form today under this looming pressure. He smooth-talks his way onto the high-stakes blackjack table without knowing anyone, coaxes the dealer into letting him sit in for _"a few hands, sweetheart"_ with this husky voice he always saves for the pretty girls (and boys), says things like, _"Ah, what a shame, our friends forgot all about us! We flew in from London to see them, just for today, but it's alright. We can just go drink at the airport until my flight—"_ and she buckles like a cheap card table.

"I'll set you up at my table," she says. Jongin can hear the flustered shyness in her voice, the way she suppresses a giggle into her wrist as she clips past in her heels.

"Baekhyun. She doesn't sound old enough to be out after dark," Joonmyun warns.

"Doesn't look it, either," Chanyeol confirms. "Don't worry. I'll keep him on a leash."

"See that you do," Joonmyun grumbles. The next few minutes play out in painful anticipation, as Chanyeol asks for a quiet room to make a 'very important phone call', and Baekhyun places several large bets in quick succession and wins them all. Joonmyun nods along with each completed sting like a conductor, hands punctuating his approval with swift fist pumps into his side.

Jongin's too tense to celebrate. He sighs and rubs his forehead wearily, trying to soothe the beginnings of a tension headache away with his fingertips. "Chanyeol. Is there a backdoor into the system?"

Chanyeol types a few things. "Give me a minute," he says, and Jongin imagines him pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Looking for a way to break into their CCTV without tipping them off that I'm watching—"

"Can't you work faster?" Jongin urges, squeezing at Kyungsoo's shoulders until Joonmyun has to pry off his fingers one by one so Kyungsoo doesn't buckle to the ground under the sheer force of Jongin's hands.

"Look. The Zbigniew Security System's the most advanced thing on the market—we're talking about a security system that Kim Jong-Un calls unnecessary, okay, and that fucker's so goddamn paranoid he's got people tasting his food and I'm trying to hack the system with a laptop running Windows XP. Give me—a goddamn minute to get—" Jongin could hear his victorious smile all the way over the comms. "There we go, I'm in. Just let me—"

"Can't you get him an elevator?" Jongin asks.

"Guaranteed death chamber, Jongin-ah," Chanyeol says. "Lie low and let me work."

The comms go quiet, punctuated by Baekhyun periodically asking for another hit. Joonmyun paces the entire length of the rooftop and back again, then looks at Kyungsoo and Jongin, face solemn.

"You can go down to the street now," he says. "Wait for my instructions, but if you see an opening, Kyungsoo—"

"I know," Kyungsoo says. "Jongin. Come on."

“We can't just storm in there. You’re going to get him killed," Jongin says over his shoulder as they turn to leave. Joonmyun looks over and smiles thinly.

"Look at you getting all worked up. Do you really care?"

"Of _course_ I—"

"Jongin," Kyungsoo barks sharply. "Now."

Jongin follows Kyungsoo down the fire escape at the far wall of the structure, shoulders hunched and sulking.

"You know," Kyungsoo says, voice echoing in the open space, bouncing all the way to the ground floor. "He doesn't blame you."

"Then why is he acting like he does?" Jongin hurdles over the railing and lands in front of Kyungsoo on the next flight of stairs.

"Don't act like a kid, Jongin. He's not mad at you for what Sehun did. He's just worried." Kyungsoo says, shoving Jongin between the shoulder blades gently. "You know how protective he is. This is the only family Joonmyun has."

"Then why was he trying to stop me—"

"Because he knows you can be just as reckless. Especially when you feel responsible for something. Like the way you almost broke your neck trying to get to Baekhyun in—well."

Kyungsoo doesn't need to say _Macau_ because Jongin's already reliving it, the heels of hands pressed hard against his eye sockets. "I'd never do anything to put us in danger, hyung—"

"Guys," Chanyeol says quietly. "Not now. You know we can still hear you, right?"

Jongin kicks out at the air in frustration. "Forget it. Let's just get in there."

"Hold on," Kyungsoo says. "There are two guys over at the north side of the building washing the windows."

Jongin looks around at the pedestrians ambling past. The commuter crowd has been reduced to a smattering of people, but they've only got a few hours before it turns into the lunch rush. Even now, they're risking a lot. Kyungsoo taking out a couple of window washers is definitely going to attract some unwanted attention if any one of the passersby hears the noise. "You're _kidding_."

Kyungsoo cracks his knuckles deliberately, easing the _pop_ from each joint one by one as he considers what to do next. "Wait here until I give you the signal," he says finally. "You know, I _hate_ doing this in broad daylight, anyone could _see_ us."

"No choice, Kyungsoo," Joonmyun's voice intones through their earpieces.

"I swear to God, if we get him out alive, I'm going to kill him," Kyungsoo growls. "This is _not_ how I work, hyung."

Joonmyun chuckles briefly before the amusement drops from his voice and he's all business again. "I'll definitely give you an opportunity to wring his neck, but for now, can you—"

"—yeah, yeah." Kyungsoo disappears down the alleyway, leaving Jongin to stand guard in the street.

"Call him, Jongin," Joonmyun instructs. "Tell him Baekhyun and Chanyeol are in there."

"I _can't_ , it's going to tip off the Zbigniew," Jongin says. His head swivels up to squint at the top of the building across the street. He can barely make out the outline of Joonmyun's head, hair ruffled by wind, leaning over the railing to get a better look at the Black Pearl. "Tell Chanyeol to find him."

"Jongin," Chanyeol says. "I'm supposed to be a patron here. I can't wander around the halls, it'll get us _both_ killed. Just call him, tell him to get to the suite on the 42nd floor. I think we can get to him there."

"What if he can't get to it?"

"Then you're going to have to go in and get to him. Just do it."

"Do it _now_ ," Joonmyun urges. "You're out of time."

Jongin swipes his thumb across the screen of his phone. Sehun's number lights up across the screen. It doesn't even complete a full ring before Sehun's breathing into the receiver, voice controlled and quiet.

"Jongin?" he pants, sounding out of breath. His voice is distorted and echoes, like he's holding the phone far away from his face. "What—?"

"We're here," Jongin says quickly. "Need to know where you are. Can you get to the 42nd floor?"

"I—maybe. I'm—in an air vent at the moment." Ah. Well, that explains why he sounds like he's talking inside of a bathroom stall.

Chanyeol's voice chimes in Jongin's ear and he recoils, startled by the sudden sound. "He's on the 30th floor. Heat sensors are picking him up in the walls."

"Chanyeol says you're on the 30th floor. Be careful, the heat sensors know you're there. You don't have much time."

Sehun swallows loudly. Jongin can picture him pawing sweat off his face with the inside of his wrist, that stupid pink hair of his sticking limply to his forehead. "Are the elevators clear? Can Chanyeol divert one for me?"

"No can do, Jongin," Chanyeol reminds him firmly. "Elevators are kill zones. He'd be trapped. Do not get in the elevator, unless you want to be carried out of the building in a couple extra-strength trash bags."

"No," Jongin says, filtering out Chanyeol's colorful imagery. Sehun doesn't need to be scared like that right now. "Stay away from the elevators. Just hurry. Do you know which way you're going?"

Sehun laughs. "I'll figure it out. You said 42nd? See you there."

"Sehun—" The line goes dead. "—be careful," Jongin finishes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know, I hate to say I told you so..."

"Then don't."

Kyungsoo comes back around the corner. His hair is tousled but he's otherwise unharmed. "What are you looking at?" he asks, running his fingers through his hair. "They aren't going to stay unconscious forever. You coming?"

Jongin licks his lips. Every nerve in his body is tingling. "I—yeah."

Jongin started out as a cat burglar so he's used to crawling up the side of buildings to get where he needs to go. Heights don't normally scare him, but he finds he's still a little queasy by the slow swaying of the suspended scaffolding. Kyungsoo crams a hard hat onto Jongin's head before they start their ascent. "Now you look the part," he says, shrugging a reflective vest over his shoulders. "Pretend you're washing something. And stop looking out at the city, Sehun's not going to be there."

Jongin turns, white-knuckling the bar, leaning in to catch a glimpse at the rooms through the windows crawling by.

"Anything yet?" Joonmyun asks.

Jongin squints. "Not—wait. Kyungsoo." The swing stage comes to an abrupt, creaky stop. "There. In the hall." Jongin sees him through the glass, pressed up against the wall breathing slow, the stark whites of his eyes round and bugged. Jongin raps a knuckle on the glass. "Sehun," he murmurs, even though Sehun can't hear him. "Come on. Look straight again." He knocks again. " _Look_ , dammit. Over here."

Sehun's head swivels around, trying to find the source of the sound. He looks panicked.

"Breathe, and just. Look at me," Jongin says, voice low. He knocks on the glass again, three brisk taps that ring out in the empty suite. "I'm on the ledge. Come on. Let me in."

Sehun catches sight of him then and makes an aborted attempt to run into the room. He stops short in the door frame looking like a freeze-frame, poised to run.

"No—no!" Jongin howls as Sehun darts away, out of sight. He stops himself millimeters away from the window pane and ghosts a frustrated slap into the air.

"Jongin," Kyungsoo mutters. "He saw someone. Move."

"I know," he says, dropping to his knees and ducking out of sight. "How are we supposed to get in there? Chanyeol?"

"What do you expect me to do from in here?" Chanyeol asks. "They're going to get suspicious and come looking for me soon. If you can get to the roof, I can maybe disable the alarm long enough for you to get inside."

That's not good news. Kyungsoo groans through his fingers. "This thing won't go up the whole way, we'll have to climb the last few floors."

"Fuck. How am I going to get him out of there? It's taking too long to get inside. Can't Baekhyun—"

"No, Baekhyun can not," Baekhyun says, sounding like he's talking out of the side of his mouth. "I'm keeping everyone's eyes on me so you can do your job. Come on, Jongin. Remember what worked last time and what didn't."

It's Macau all over again, except this time it's Sehun, not Baekhyun. Someone who he couldn't have given a fuck about before the beginning of the week, and yet he's got a chance to do this right, to push forward instead of hesitating like a coward. And like it or not, Sehun's part of the team now.

"We," Joonmyun says over the comm. "We will help you get him out of there, but you need to find him. This is—can we take this as a learning experience to have an earbud on us at all times?"

Jongin turns his head just in time for the wind to whip past his earpiece. Kyungsoo notices, reaches out to cup his palm over Jongin's ear so he can hear again.

"—keep them busy, Baekhyun," Joonmyun's saying. "Chanyeol. Status report on the roof?"

"They're good if they go now."

"You heard him," Joonmyun says. "To the roof."

Jongin shoulders his bag and looks at Kyungsoo's fists, already clenched and ready for _something_ to happen. "Hyung, you—go back down, Baekhyun might need you—"

"No, Kyungsoo. Go with Jongin," Joonmyun instructs. Kyungsoo sets his mouth into a straight line of determination and nods, even as Jongin pulls a face and slumps forward with annoyance. "Jongin. This is what he does. Just let him help you."

For his size, Kyungsoo is deceptively strong. He disarms the first security guard waiting for them with a rapid twist of his wrist, pushes the heel of his other hand out to catch the guard's jaw. Jongin hears the wrist break from all the way down the staircase. It sounds like the dry crack of firewood, a stepped-upon branch, quickly drowned out by anguished howls of pain. Jongin flinches and tries not to vomit. Kyungsoo disarms the gun's clip into his open hand and tosses the empty gun aside.

"C'mon, hyung," Jongin urges, pulling open the door. Kyungsoo looks up in time for another guard to descend the stairs, gun drawn.

"No," he decides. "I'm more useful here."

"You sure?"

Kyungsoo sinks his knuckles into the hard muscle of the man's solar plexus. He falls to the ground with a loud _oof_. The gun skips down the stairs, pinging loudly as it bounces out of reach.

"Yeah," he says, wiping a trickle of sweat from his forehead. "I'm sure."

"Let him buy you some time, Jongin," Joonmyun says. "Hurry."

The hallway is completely silent. The row of polished ebony doors stretched past him and around the corner, a hundred iterations of the same gleaming pewter knob. The atrium at the center of the floor is a ghost town. A lone chair in the back corner swings gently to and fro with the inertia from a recently departed body. "Where'd everybody go?"

"They're all downstairs watching Baekhyun," Joonmyun says. "It's not every day that someone comes in and takes millions from the table at the Black Pearl."

Jongin laughs into his palms. "Fuck. Baekhyun, really?"

"Hey," Baekhyun whispers. "You think I don't know how to count cards? This is cake. House thinks they're so smart with this special UV ink on the cards so the dealers can keep track of where all the cards are. They make special contacts to see this stuff, though—common knowledge. I'm a little surprised at how outdated this whole thing is. Feels like Tokyo back in 2009. I'm doing them a favor. They need to find a new way to shut down gamblers like me. Now shut up and let me work."

Jongin jogs past half a dozen closed doors before he reaches the end of the hall. "Guys?" he asks, confused. "Where is he?"

"Give me a minute." Chanyeol's fingers hammer loudly against the keys. "Oh," he says. "Oh, _shit._ "

Jongin's pulse halts as every atom in his body holds its breath, waiting for Chanyeol. "What?"

"Damn it! He got in an elevator. I thought you _told him_ to stay away."

Jongin closes his eyes as the panic slams into his lungs, cutting off his air. "I did," he says, voice strangled. "Fuck. _Why—_ "

"They've taken control of the elevator manually, Jongin," Chanyeol says over the rapid-fire clacking of the laptop keyboard. "There's nothing I can do to divert it from here."

Jongin pulls a screwdriver from the depths of his kit and quickly undoes the ventilation grate at the end of the floor. "Chanyeol. Give me directions."

"Jesus, Jongin, the heat sensors already detected activity in the air vents. People are watching them now. You've got to get out of there."

"I'm getting Sehun first. We're too close." Jongin turns left and is hit with a gust of warm, stale air. The elevator shaft. "I'm here." He rolls onto his stomach to untangle the mess of cables he needs to make the jump.

"The elevator's going to stop on the 15th floor, Jongin. There's a security team waiting for him. The head of security's given the green light to _shoot him_ , do you understand?" Joonmyun asks. "They're not calling the cops on this one, they're going to deal with it in-house. This isn't a regular police situation, this is the mob. You have to get to him before they do."

"Jongin," Baekhyun pleads. "Don't, you'll never make it."

"Hyung, shut up and let me do my job," Jongin bites out, sliding into the elevator shaft. He usually gives himself enough lead time before his jumps. He's still fastening his harness when he leaps, arms spread wide, breath flattened against the roof of his mouth, held there by a tongue that wants to scream but can't get the noise out.

Landing on a moving target is actually exceedingly difficult. Jongin's knees land on the elevator ceiling with a heavy clang. The whole unit vibrates from the impact. If the guards really are waiting near the doors for Sehun, there's no way they could have missed that sound, like a bomb going off at a distance. Jongin wrenches the maintenance door open and hangs over the edge on his stomach, arms outstretched.

Sehun's eyes are wide, mouth wide with terror. He nearly smiles when he sees Jongin's face appear over the hole. "Shit," he says. "I thought you weren't going to make it."

"Chanyeol told you to stay out of the elevators," Jongin grunts, hanging upside down through the escape door. "Come on. Now."

Jongin wraps an arm around Sehun's middle and pulls him up the elevator shaft just in time for the elevator to ease to a stop, shuddering gently on the cable.

Sehun clambers out of the open trap door and clubs his knee against the door, sits back and holds it protectively as Jongin struggles to shut it before the guards come in and see their escape route. Jongin pulls him to his feet by the scruff of his shirt and Sehun's whole body sags with shock and exhaustion, dead weight and boneless.

"Hey," Jongin grunts. "You're too heavy for this. Don't pass out on me now."

"Is he okay?" Joonmyun asks.

"He's fine," Jongin says, watching Sehun sink his teeth into his lower lip and nod a few times. "There's no time, Sehun. You can cry about it later," he chastises, wrapping the straps around Sehun's legs and clipping their harnesses together with a large, silver carabiner. As soon as they're secure, he tugs on the line. "Got him. Chanyeol, get us out of here."

"Okay. Get to a stairwell. I'll pull the fire alarm."

Sehun clings, presses his face into the seam of Jongin's neck and sobs, just once, very quietly, dry and wracked with relief. Jongin rubs between his shoulder blades, ignores the conspicuous silence on the comms long enough to whisper, "Hey. Get it together. You're okay."

"Joonmyun, we've got a problem," Chanyeol hisses, breaking the moment between them. Jongin pauses halfway up the rope, swinging gently. Sehun adjusts his grip around Jongin's waist and leans his face in to listen. His breath fogs against Jongin's ear in heavy, warm puffs.

"What is it?" Joonmyun asks. He sounds pissed. "Chanyeol, set the alarm off already. What's the hold-up?"

"The Zbigniew. It figured out what I was doing—I'm locked out." Chanyeol groans in frustration. The sound of a slamming door, a clank of a metal trash can. "Jongin. You hear that? You need to go out through the front door. It's the only open exit left."

"How do we do that?" Jongin asks desperately, gesturing at the open air shaft. Sehun peels himself away slowly like a child reluctant to leave his mother and hauls himself up on the ledge by his fingertips. Jongin pulls himself up through the air shaft behind him, unclips Sehun's harness with a loud, decisive snap. "Joonmyun, they've seen his face, I can't just leave—"

"I've got it covered. There's another way," Chanyeol says. Another clank, the metallic slice of a filing cabinet drawer yanked off its hinge. "Baekhyun. Get out of there, okay?"

"Already gone," Baekhyun mutters. Someone's shuffling papers. Jongin can't tell if it's Chanyeol or Baekhyun until the shrill pinging of the fire alarm goes off and Chanyeol starts giggling under his breath.

"Chanyeol." Joonmyun's voice rings out over the comm, terse. Jongin knows he's probably got a vein bulging out of his forehead right now, tendons in his neck strained from trying to stay calm and not scream at everyone for tripping over their own feet when all they need to do is just get out of this fucking building. "The building's evacuating. What the hell, Chanyeol, did you—"

"Relax, hyung. It's just a trash can fire. Jongin, that's all I can do for you now."

"That's fine. I can make it work," Jongin says. He looks behind him. Sehun's frozen at the precipice, looking back down elevator shaft, stricken. "Sehun. Come on. Let's _go_."

 

Sehun's left agitated by the fire alarm and he turns too quickly down a passage, scrapes the side of his face on the ventilation shaft. Jongin winces at the raw skin across his forehead, the fine droplets of blood that form around the edge of the wound, but there's just no _time_ to deal with it when they've got maybe two minutes to get out of the building before the fire department comes in and everything's on lockdown.

Jongin kicks out the vent that opens onto a floor of offices and crams the beanie on his head over Sehun's pink hair, takes a few precious seconds to tuck any stray hairs out of sight because if someone sees it they're _really_ fucked, pulls Sehun along under his arm and into a crowd of workers chattering excitedly about the fire alarm. Jongin lets a tiny woman fret to him about the photographs of her grandchildren she left in the servants' headquarters—they're safe, after all, since the fire alarm's a hoax—and then they're on the floor of the casino, filing out with the guests. Jongin can see half a dozen armed guards looking over the crowd, then at each other, like they know they're fucked. Their intruder is going to get away in this chaos.

"Hey, is your friend okay?" the woman asks when she pauses to breathe. "You're guests, right?"

"He's just had a rough morning," Jongin says, hedging.

She smiles encouragingly and touches Sehun's chin. "It's okay," she says to him over the clamour of people. "You'll bounce back. You've got a good friend here, he'll take care of you."

Sehun nods weakly and Jongin has to bite his tongue to stop from laughing out loud because there's no way she's talking about Sehun's failed heist—she thinks he spent the morning losing money on the card tables, but somehow the advice is the same. He'll be okay.

They push past a security guard who stares at them for a moment, speaks into his radio and calls out. "Hey—you, in the cap—" but they're gone, hidden behind a group of harried tourists before the security guard can think to follow them.

The team's waiting for them across the street in the parking garage. Baekhyun's already in the passenger seat, thumbing through some bills. He'd had the presence of mind to cash in his chips before the alarm was pulled, so he's looking pretty pleased when Jongin and Sehun approach.

"You're safe," he says cheerfully. "Jongin, you ninja."

"Hey," Chanyeol calls, and he comes around from the back of the van. "Is nobody going to talk about my quick thinking? Plus, I went up against a Zbigniew and we're all still alive." Silence. "Alright, you're not welcome. Assholes."

Kyungsoo and Joonmyun are there too. Kyungsoo watches Sehun silently for a moment before he climbs into the van, shaking his head. Jongin's glad—it's probably best he doesn't yell at Sehun right now, not when he looks like he's going to cry.

Joonmyun, though—Joonmyun's finally pissed off enough that it shows in his face. "Sehun," he says, voice dangerously soft. "You think I like risking my team for some punk? You think this makes me want to trust you?"

Sehun finally loosens his grip on Jongin's arm and steps away. "Sorry, hyung," he murmurs, mostly to Joonmyun's shoes. If he looked any more ashamed of himself he'd probably disappear right into his shoes.

"It's not just me, Sehun—you put the entire team in danger. And for what? Can you tell me what's in the Black Pearl that's worth pissing off _the entire Kkangpae_ for?"

Sehun looks like he'd rather be dead. Chanyeol nudges him in the ribs and offers him a sheepish smile.

"Thanks for giving me an excuse to play with a Zbigniew. That was a lot of fun."

"Chanyeol," Joonmyun says sternly, and Chanyeol lowers his eyes too. "Take him home," Joonmyun says, to Jongin this time. "We'll talk in the morning."

"Hyung, go easy on him," Jongin says quietly. "He just wanted to impress us."

"Yeah?" Joonmyun asks, watching the retreating outline of Sehun's hunched shoulders. "Tell him I'm not impressed." He sighs heavily.

"We're going to have the _Kkangpae_ up our ass for a while," says Kyungsoo, glowering from the van's open door. His eyes are dark, movements jerky—he's nervous. One of the few things he's actually afraid of: a city-wide manhunt for the whole team just because Sehun pissed off some mid-tier gangsters.

Joonmyun puts his hand up to acknowledge Kyungsoo's been heard and looks back at Jongin, just as worried. "You're going to have to work on his tendency to take jobs on his own. He's part of the team now. He should learn how to act like it."

Jongin nods. "I'll talk to him."

"Doesn't mean we're not going to have a meeting about this. Just," Joonmyun lets his hand rest on Jongin's bicep, fingers flexing in a gentle squeeze, "make sure you guys get some rest, okay?"

"You too. Thanks, hyung," Jongin says to his shoelaces.

"You did a good job today, Jongin." Joonmyun says. He opens his mouth to speak, then seems to think better of it and shakes his head.

"What? Say it."

"I was just going to tell you... I've never had one regret over bringing you on as part of the team." He lifts a shoulder to his ear casually. "And just so you know, I still don't."

Jongin's cheeks color. "Thanks."

"So do me a favor, will you? Stop telling Baekhyun you think Sehun would have been a better choice. I assure you... we couldn't have pulled the job today without you."

 

Sehun's already collapsed on the bed and fast asleep when Jongin finally gets inside the apartment, his limbs splayed across the width of the bed. He hadn't even stopped to take off his shoes. Jongin sits at the edge of the bed and laughs, yanking at the laces of Sehun's boots.

"Hey. Asshole. This is my bed. You're supposed to be on the couch," he says, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. He rakes his fingers through Sehun's hair, pulls it off his face. The graze at his temple from the ventilation shaft is still fresh. Jongin takes great care to avoid it when he's petting Sehun's face, tracing the scroll of his eyebrows, the line of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. He's almost handsome like this, Jongin thinks. You know. _Almost._

Sehun scrunches his nose and rolls over, exhaling something that sounds suspiciously like _fuck off_. Jongin takes the opportunity to claim the edge of the bed, extracts the covers from underneath their bodies with a few well-placed nudges at the small of Sehun's back. Sehun's body moves towards the source of warmth in the bed the minute Jongin's settled. He curls in on himself, rests in the notch of Jongin's armpit, thumbing the knob of Jongin's elbow. He whines softly in his sleep when Jongin finally extracts himself and moves away.

Jongin rolls to a cooler part of the mattress and pillows the base of his neck with his laced fingers, exhales slowly into the empty apartment. He tucks his knees up to his chest, starts to count backwards from ten, and passes out before he makes it to zero.

 

He wakes up alone, the blood ringing in his ears. He sits up, dry-mouthed and disoriented, squinting into the depths of his apartment, trying to figure out why he'd even woken up in the first place. Everything's perfectly still. He puts a hand out to balance himself, feels the dip in the mattress, still warm. He remembers—Sehun's supposed to be here, sleeping off the trauma from his ordeal.

The toilet flushes. Jongin leans over and turns the bedside lamp on just in time for Sehun to emerge from the bathroom looking wrecked with exhaustion. His hair's still that disgusting shade of fluorescent pink, cowlicked from sleep, neckline of his shirt twisted down over one bare shoulder. His collarbones throw deep shadows across the pale dip of his chest.

"What?" Sehun asks, orange beams of lamplight stretching across his face, disappearing into the apprehensive wrinkles on his forehead. "Had to piss."

"Nothing," Jongin croaks. His throat feels like he swallowed a whole desert's worth of sand in his sleep. "Just. Thought you'd left."

Jongin's surprised at the way Sehun's voice softens, like a tidal wave into a ripple. "I can—if you need me out of here, I can. Go." He swallows, Adam's apple clanging in his throat. "I know I never asked."

"Do you ever?" Jongin asks. Sehun lowers his eyes.

"I never really said thank you. For coming to get me."

"Yeah. Well." Jongin folds his arms across his chest. "You never should've gone in there by yourself."

"I know," Sehun says glumly. "I got in over my head, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

A beat. "Joonmyun-hyung's pretty mad at you, you know."

"Don't blame him."

Jongin takes a deep breath and holds it while he debates whether he should tell Sehun the next thought that crosses his mind. _Why the hell not,_ he decides. "He still wants you on the team, though."

Sehun's mouth presses into a severe bracket. "You're kidding. He wouldn't even look me in the eye when we finally got out." He runs a hand through his hair. "I've never been fired before but I'm pretty sure that's what it looks like."

"I'm not. I talked to him. He still wants to take a chance on you—you're good, Sehun, when you're not being a dick. You'll learn." Jongin can't even believe it's his voice saying these things, to _Sehun_ of all people. "It's hard, you know. When you start working with other people. I get that maybe it's hard to trust us, but—"

"I do. Trust you, I mean." Sehun licks his lips. "I didn't know if I could, but. You're actually kind of good. And easy to work with."

Jongin smirks. "So you admit that working with a team's not so bad, even if you have to split the score?'

"Are you really going to make me say it again?" Sehun asks, rolling his eyes. "Yes. Yes, I'm really glad you guys had my back. Thank you." The apology sounds strange coming from Sehun. Wrong. Jongin knows it's sincere, but somehow it doesn't satisfy him to hear Sehun humbled, beaten into submission by his own shame.

"Maybe you should stay here so I can. I don't know. Keep an eye on you," Jongin says to the pillow. He isn't sure what Sehun's face looks like when he says this, isn't even sure how serious he is about it until he thinks about his pink bath towels and doesn't want to punch Sehun anymore. It's not guilt, exactly—he knows Sehun probably would have gone to the Black Pearl even if he had been staying with Jongin, but somehow, he just—needs to be sure it doesn't happen again.

"I don't need a babysitter," Sehun intones. "I won't get into trouble again. I learned my lesson the first time."

"Yeah." Jongin turns off the lamp. The apartment plunges into darkness. The streetlight outside his window's out again. Jongin speaks again, his voice strangely hollow in the darkness. "I think you need someone to talk you out of your stupid ideas."

"Maybe I just need someone to come with me." Sehun clambers into the bed, his long, octopus limbs wrapped around Jongin's body. Jongin elbows him fruitlessly to try and reclaim some space, realizes he's just been relegated to half of his own bed. He barely has enough time to be annoyed before Sehun's soft, warm mouth presses a tentative thank you between Jongin's eyes.

"What are you doing?" Jongin murmurs. Sehun freezes and reels back, retreats to the edge of the mattress where the bed's still cold.

"Sorry, I—"

"No, you idiot. Like this." Jongin grabs a fistful of Sehun's shirt and yanks him close enough to kiss him quiet.

Sehun looks a little stunned when Jongin pulls back and smooths his hand down the side of Sehun's face. Softer, almost, stripped of his swagger. Jongin pats his cheek and rolls away to hide the blush spreading across his face.

"Now go to sleep, I'm serious," he says, burying his face into a pillow. "I'm so fucking tired and it's all your fault."

Sehun doesn't say anything to that, but the warm arm that curls around Jongin's waist and pulls him closer makes him think that maybe Sehun's not such a bad addition to the team after all.

There's time. He'll learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for sncj_santa@lj 2013.

**Author's Note:**

> written for sncj_santa@lj 2013.


End file.
